If You Can't Hang
by starryshouyou
Summary: Would you please stay and come inside, baby? Would you please stay and please be mine, baby? Mentions of RoyEd, self-harm (if you squint), abuse. One-shot.


**Christmas present for my Twinala (Shadowcat 203)**

**ENJOY!**

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I think I was a little addicted to you, the way you noticed me amongst the crowd (if bumping into you in the hallway counts). I loved the way you'd laugh with your friends about how dorky I was, how I cringed at every word you said. I think that's what I loved most about you, how it was all in good fun, but the day you saw my bruise you stopped and talked to me.

I was a nervous wreck, I think you could tell. I'd sit there shaking on a park bench with a heart in my throat as you spoke words made especially for me, and your eyes were a storm and I knew I made a mistake choosing you, but what can I say? I'm mess a lot of things up. And my heart was as broken as my mind was that day you sat there and said, "I'm going away."

Still I didn't say a word, what was there to say? I think it was a joke, a prank, or a dare, that day you said, "Hello."

I think that's where it started. The sweat on your skin made it a little more real, and the bedsheets under me clung to me like how I clung to you that night. The next day, the next day you said those words, the ones I didn't want to hear (the wrong words). You've been gone for awhile I think. It was fall when you'd said that to me, and spring is up and coming and I can tell you I haven't grown an inch since then.

You'd make fun of me if you saw me today, as ugly as that day. I can't remember the last time I cried, time goes by slowly here. I think its been a few months since I last saw you, but I still feel where my tears fell at four o'clock this morning. You were a pretty face that shined brighter than the moonlit night (the color of your hair, I still remember how it smelled, all smoky and wild like you were from the woods), and I think I was a little too bright to not be looked at, but I still wish you looked at me the way I looked at you, but now you don't look at me at all.

Your friends pass by me in the hallway (even though I avoid them they find me, but I can't find you), and they snicker a little (I laugh sometimes too), sometimes they point and laugh.

"Slut," my new nickname, it's been that way for awhile now, but I guess it was worth it, for you to love me for a few days (or an hour or two).

"Ed," I heard someone say. Is that still my name?

I turned to find him standing there, my brother, Alphonse. He hates you, a little. You two were good friends (I think). Al thought you were a good guy (but maybe he didn't know you too well either).

I faked a smile, "Hey, Al."

He glared at me with his big hazel eyes and I laughed, he reminded me of mom. "You know I can see right through you," he said.

"You look a lot like mom."

"Don't try to slip me up. I know you're thinking about him."

I always loved my brother and I never found a reason to hate him, but I think I found it. He knows me too well.

"Yeah, maybe I was."

He glared at me once more before softening, an angry face didn't fit him. He spoke, "Why? Why don't you hate him?" he asked as we walked out of the school and onto the sidewalk.

I never answered him. He knew I wouldn't. He asks me everyday, the same question, "Why?" The same question he asked when mom died.

I would always think of an answer, but never say it out loud. I think I do hate you, even if only a little. I gave you up without a fight, didn't say a word when you were wrong. You said one day, someday, someone would love me - scars and all, but I guess that one day, that someday, and that someone just wasn't you. I thought you were that eternity I wanted, the one I needed, and I guess I wanted to be the one to fight wars over. I guess I wanted to be that Lana Del Rey song we'd fog up your car windows to.

We reached our house, dad wasn't home yet as always. (Don't you remember when I told you that?)

"Its your turn, Al," I said.

"I did it last night!"

"We're doing this by weeks now, Alphonse. Now be a good wife and cook for me!"

Alphonse growled and I smiled and laughed. I always changed the rules, I remember how you laughed at how I acted with him - mature one minute and childish the next.

"_You're a mother hen and a four-year-old at the same time."_

There was a crashing sound and Al looked at me in shock. I looked down and there it was, a china plate smashed to pieces. Everything was blurry and my face was warm. My body was shaking, I think I was craving you again. My breathing was ragged, I think about you too often I guess. Al had to guide me out of the kitchen, I don't know why I let you do this to me. You've been long gone, to some big city where you'll meet the person of your dreams (not me).

I think I blacked out on the couch, but when I woke up I was angry at you. I let you get to me, I climbed myself out of the tower before you arrived, but I guess I wasn't worth the white horse. You were the first and I won't forget, but I think if you came back, I'd run into your arms - like a child to their parent, I'd cry on your shoulder. You'd comfort me with a small pitying smile, rock me to sleep, but the moment I woke up I know you'd be gone again, Roy.

And the worst part is that I'd let you break me _again._

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**Haven't done first person in like two years and its so much easier.**

**mind: DO THIS**

**me: OKAY**

**Merry Christmas Twinala!**

**REVIEW! REVIEW!**

**THANKS!**


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